


Of Tales and Frilly Cakes

by StrandsofNehn



Series: For Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Frilly Cakes, Gen, Painting, being inquisitor sucks sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrandsofNehn/pseuds/StrandsofNehn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, she just needs a break. Maybe some mead too. Also, possibly cakes... Most definitely cakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Tales and Frilly Cakes

"Solas."

His ears pricked at her voice and she watched as he carefully put down the paint and brush he was using onto the stool beside him. He didn't have a single speck of paint on his clothes. Sylanna would not be so tidy. 

"Is something wrong?" 

It wasn't surprising he asked, she was certain her skin was still pale and she could feel herself sweating a bit, that paired with how she held her arms around herself she's likely looked a wounded animal. It was not far off. Still, she shook her head in a wordless no. She was not here to talk about what ails her. 

"Then how may I assist you?" 

Bless him, and bless his wit that he knew not to press. "I... I was wondering..." What was she wanting? She didn't have a premeditated course. Solas seemed to pick up on this. He gestured to the empty chair a few feet beside his stool and Sylanna sat. "I was wanting to spend some time with you this afternoon. Maybe, maybe you could tell me more of your friends? Or history?" She allowed herself to bite her lip, there was no hiding her unease. "Although, I do not wish to disturb you or your work." 

If it was another situation she would have offered to come another time when he was less busy, but she didn't. She would leave if he asked but she did not offer. 

Solas may not know her very well, not yet, but he knows how she likes to be held when kissed and how to trace her jaw in a way that made her skin sing. And most importantly, he knew that Sylanna Lavellan was asking for his help and despite the years of being alone, he could respond kindly. 

"I would like that, Sylanna." 

The smile he gave her was gentle and she reciprocated with one a step away from watery. 

"Would you be displeased if I continued to paint throughout our debate?"

Her eyebrows raised, "A friendly conversation is now a debate?"

There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "Oh, I am certain it will start off that way but inevitably you will interject, challenge and spiral our conversation into a more heated one."

She could feel her mouth curling, a smirk playing on her lips coyly. "Heated? Indeed?" Solas merely shook his head and smiled a little wider. "Answering your initial question, I would enjoy watching you paint." 

"Very well," She watched as he picked up his paints and brush again and pulled her legs up to fold them under her chin. "But first," Solas quickly targeted a servant. "Miss, the Inquisitor requires a tray of those flaking pastries and," He paused to look back at her, "And a small glass of honeyed mead. Water as well, Please." Syl tried not to gape at him when he turned his attentions back to her as the (rather frightened) servant scurried off. "So, shall we start with a story or skip right to history for our deb- conversation?" 

Sylanna smiled easily. Bless him. "I may need a moment to prepare; a story to start would be lovely." She placed her chin on her hands, currently propped on the tops of her knees. "... Thank you, Solas."

He ignored the way his heart slightly clenched at the exhaustion in her voice. A moment passed and he realized he was just standing there. He inclined his head gently to her before focusing back on the fresco. "Now, there was a time I visited my friend, Purpose..."


End file.
